


Next Time

by Chichirinoda



Category: Gyakuten Kenji | Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edgeworth is being accosted everywhere by a randy wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) for the prompt "Rubbing/Grinding".

Edgeworth knew Lang couldn't help himself.

Any time they were in a small space - for example, brushing past one another in the stairwell, or crowding into the tiny interrogation room at police headquarters to discuss a case - Edgeworth would feel Lang's hand brush against his backside, or the taller man would shift far closer than necessary, his whole body all but rubbing up against him before they were past one another.

For Edgeworth, a man whose entire life was shaped by varying levels of control over all aspects of it, the rough man's reactions to him produced an answering response that was startlingly strong.

It started soon after the smuggling ring had been broken open. Edgeworth arrived at work the following week, only to step into his office and discover Lang already there, leaning on his desk like he owned it.

"I'm on loan," the Interpol Agent said, baring sharp teeth. "Working with Franziska. So you're not rid of me, yet."

"Congratulations," Edgeworth said, wondering how the hell Lang had gotten into his office. "I'm glad to hear it. You're an excellent investigator and I'm sure we'll benefit from your expertise."

He stepped aside pointedly, his mind already sliding off of the wolflike man and moving towards his caseload. Though Lang seemed ready enough to be physically dismissed, as he levered himself up immediately and moved towards the door, he was obviously less willing to be dismissed from Edgeworth's mind. Though Edgeworth thought he had given Lang more than enough room to pass, he found Lang brushing past him far too closely for comfort.

Lang's breath washed over Edgeworth's ear and he could have sworn he felt lips follow as Lang spoke in a husky voice, little above a growl.

"It'll be good to work with you again, pretty boy."

And then Lang was gone, but his effects lingered. Edgeworth felt his legs turn to water, and his breathing came rapidly, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. Rage followed quickly, and as he slammed his office door and tottered to his desk on weak knees, he swore that he wouldn't allow such a liberty to be taken with his person again.

But Lang had other plans, and with each incident Edgeworth's reaction seemed to grow deeper, until he found his breathing beginning to speed up the moment he became aware that Lang was nearby. Each time he wondered whether _this_ time would be the time Lang would actually go through with whatever urges he was skirting. Worse, once the moment was over, he caught himself anticipating the next time, mouth dry and body flushing with heat.

He told himself over and over that he should confront the man, to force him to stop, but it seemed impossible. The words would stick in his throat, and he had to exert iron control to stop himself from closing his eyes in anticipation of some fleeting touch as Lang passed within arm's reach.

It was after close to a month of this, when he finally decided that enough was enough. He was sure that Lang was just waiting for him to react _somehow_ , likely sniggering to his subordinates each night over beers or whatever he drank, about how the 'pretty boy prosecutor' didn't have the 'balls' to stand up for himself.

That was the sort of language he imagined Lang used, anyway.

But before he could put his half-formed plan into action, the unthinkable happened.

He had finished up his work on one blessedly Lang-free day, and grabbed his briefcase, walking towards the door. As he opened it, however, he had only a moment to register Lang standing immediately outside, his hand raised to knock and his jacket hanging over his shoulder, a bloody bandage wrapped around his upper arm. Then Edgeworth was pushed back several steps until his backside contacted abruptly with the edge of his desk.

"What are you doing?" he demanded over the sound of the door slamming shut once more

But Lang growled a harsh, "Shut up. Had a bad day."

There was a thud as the leather jacket hit the floor, and Lang's hands were on him. His groin worked hard against Edgeworth's hip, and the prosecutor stood still, too stunned to move. He felt the hardness through Lang's jeans, grinding against him, and his own body reacted hard and fast enough that he was dizzied.

"Lang--"

"Just shut up." The growl was softer again, almost pleading, and Edgeworth closed his mouth with the rest of the protest unvoiced. He couldn't recall why he had intended to confront the other man, who had his face buried against his neck and his arms around him, and was rocking against him with soft, animalistic whimpers.

The pace grew frenzied quickly, and Edgeworth only belatedly reached up and encircled Lang's waist with his own hands. He had no idea what he intended to do, let alone what he _wanted_ to do, but before he could decide it was already over.

Lang stilled with a soft grunt, and Edgeworth felt teeth bite down into his throat, through the fabric of the cravat. He yelped, and jerked back, clapping a hand to his neck, but though he could feel the spot throbbing he was pretty sure Lang hadn't broken the skin.

Before he could recover or say anything, Lang had pulled away and grabbed his jacket, and was stalking towards the door.

Anger rose up again. Was Lang intending to just leave him like this? Putting aside the most uncomfortable reaction his body was having, was there to be no explanation? No apology?

"Shi-Long Lang, stop right where you are!" Edgeworth snapped.

Lang had the door open, and he glanced over his shoulder once. He looked like a mean dog who was expecting the stick, and Edgeworth lowered his pointing finger. "At least let me buy you dinner," he said.

That wasn't what he'd _intended_ to say. He wasn't sure what he had intended to say.

But Lang flashed a small grin and shook his head. "Maybe next time."

And then he was gone, the door closing behind him, and Edgeworth was left to contemplate the most unfortunate and irritating state of his own body.


End file.
